


A Timeless Carol

by OnceUponAWhim



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2019-09-20 21:00:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17029947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnceUponAWhim/pseuds/OnceUponAWhim
Summary: The Wyatt and Lucy of the future have a few things to show their younger selves. [Lyatt. Post-presumed Rufus-saving. No spoilers.]





	1. Prologue

**Prologue**

Lucy startled awake, blinking into the night and unsure of just what had woken her. Only as her eyes slowly began to adjust to the inky darkness did she come to focus on what had roused her.

Or, more accurately,  _who_.

Her future self was crouched there in front of Lucy's cot, the same hands that were balled up under her pillow also, paradoxically through the grace of twisted time travel rules, resting lightly on her shoulder and on the edge of the thin mattress.

"Come on," the older Lucy whispered. "Get up."

Lucy furrowed her brow. They'd saved Rufus. He was back, safe and sound and  _alive_. Also likely asleep. So she was increasingly confused as to why  _she_  no longer was. The whole point of their future selves spending an extra night had been to get much-needed rest before navigating themselves back to their own time.

Except, Lucy was realizing as her mind started to catch up, it was looking like maybe that had been a cover for something else.

Her older self was fully dressed, no borrowed pajamas in sight. And as Lucy shook away the grogginess, that same older self flipped on the small lamp at the head of the bed and shoved a pile of what Lucy recognized as her own clothes at her. "Let's go," the elder Lucy urged softly. "Get dressed."

Pulling herself up to sit, Lucy shied away from the bright light, now more perplexed than ever. "What?" she asked sleepily. "What are you talking about?"

"Get dressed," her older self reiterated. "I need to show you a few things."

Begrudgingly, Lucy threw her legs over the side of the bed. As much as she'd have liked to protest, these mysterious future versions of herself and Wyatt had come through, as promised, and Rufus was back. So, while she was still unsettled around her future self, unnerved by this… daunting, tough, self-assured version of herself that she just couldn't envision herself ever becoming, Lucy felt overwhelmingly indebted to her for helping them save Rufus. So she supposed she could just go with it. Really, the older Lucy was just plain intimidating. So it's not as if she felt she could have said no anyway.

Still listless from the haze of sleep, Lucy eyed the small stack of clothing, not looking forward to the chill of the cold, cement floor on the trek to the bathroom.

"I know what it all looks like," came the other Lucy's voice from across the small room, interrupting Lucy's thoughts. "You can just change here," her older self added with a smirk that was obvious even in the dim light.

Lucy felt her cheeks grow hot, flustered and embarrassed not only by being so self-conscious around this person who was literally herself, but for being so transparent to this older her on top of that. But rather than try to come up with a defense or excuse about needing to use the bathroom – which of course the future Lucy would just see right through – Lucy just gave in, slipping out of her pajamas and into her jeans and sweater as modestly as possible.

And no sooner had she tied her second sneaker than she was getting tugged up off the cot at the elbow by her older self. "Come on," she hissed. "Let's go."

Still baffled, not to mention still feeling half-asleep – and, honestly, not sure she wasn't just dreaming – Lucy complied wordlessly, allowing herself to be led, it turned out, in the direction of the two lifeboats. When it finally clicked that that's where they were headed, Lucy balked, freezing in place and twisting her arm away from the elder Lucy.

Who just shot an exasperated glare in her direction.

Lucy shot an incredulous, questioning expression right back at her, then scanned her gaze desperately around the room for Wyatt. He'd taken up residence on one of the miserable couches in the main area and would surely back her up in terms of resisting the little time machine joy ride that it seemed her older self was insistent upon taking.

But Wyatt, for all intents and purposes, was useless right then, sprawled on his back and snoring softly with one leg dangling over the armrest at the end of the couch.

Instead it was FWyatt – Lucy's mental shorthand for Future Wyatt, to keep the two of them straight in her mind – who sat up on his own uncomfortable couch and offered a silent nod of acknowledgment to the pair of Lucys.

Even more confused than ever, now knowing that the two future counterparts had conspired against her, Lucy refused to budge. At least if Wyatt –  _her_  Wyatt… not that he was  _hers_ , but still – had also been getting dragged along with her, she'd have felt that much better about things. Even in the worst of times, with Jessica back in the picture, pregnant and supposedly getting the happily ever after with Wyatt that Lucy had only just begun to dare to hope for for herself, she had never once doubted that he would still make the right decisions on missions, and would still do everything in his power to keep her safe. So for as fraught and uncertain as things were between them right now, Lucy would have felt that much better about… whatever this was… if Wyatt had been coming too.

But he was still asleep.

And, for whatever it was worth considering Lucy didn't really trust him right then either, though he was awake, FWyatt wasn't budging either.

Only Future Lucy.

Well, FLucy, if Lucy was going to be consistent about it, she told herself.

On one hand, thinking of this other version of herself as a completely separate entity with her own name actually made things a little easier. Less unnerving than having another one of you around. Still, it couldn't fully hide the fact that FLucy was still Lucy Preston. The Lucy Preston that Lucy was meant to be in four or five years, and one that she just couldn't imagine this version of herself ever being enough to become.

Of course, none of that mattered right then in that instant, with FLucy still staring her down and apparently very much intent on the two of them making the trip alone.

Lucy may not have been able to see much of herself in FLucy, or how she'd come to be her, but in the end, somehow, they still were the same person. And Lucy knew herself well enough to recognize that the urgency in the dark brown gaze staring back at her meant that this was important. To both of them.

So, casting one last rueful glance at Wyatt, still asleep on the awful couch, she sighed. And with a begrudging nod of acknowledgement, not to mention a knot in her stomach, Lucy climbed obediently into the upgraded Lifeboat.

**To be continued...**


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, my friends, it's here. December 20. I'm completely unspoiled and out of the loop in terms of what's going to happen tonight, but I just really hope that these two hours do justice to the Lyatt relationship. And who knows what happens after that. Hopefully Santa comes through with my Christmas wish of Sony finding a home for a Timeless season 3.

 

The lifeboat hummed to a halt. As soon as the din faded enough for a voice to be heard, Lucy sprang to life, the realization that she had practically been kidnapped by her own self finally hitting home now that they were actually alone, just the two of them, somewhere in space and time.

"Where are we?" she pleaded, begging FLucy for information yet again. " _When_  are we?"

That earned her nothing but a look of warning as FLucy peered over her shoulder while shutting down the lifeboat.

Lucy sighed, grumbling under her breath, "Fine…" She really hoped she didn't come off this stubborn all the time.

But just as soon as she unbuckled her seatbelt and moved to tug open the lifeboat's hatch, she found herself shoved back into her seat.

"I'll be right back," her older self informed her sternly. "Stay here."

Brow furrowed, and more than uneasy about how the whole situation was shaking out, Lucy started to protest, "Hey, I-"

"You leave," FLucy warned, "I leave you here."

Taken aback, Lucy was speechless for a second before annoyance flared and any sense of being intimidated by this older version of herself was out the window. "You leave me here and you don't turn into you," she shot back snidely.

Though the glare that earned made her quickly reconsider the being intimidated thing.

"Just stay here," FLucy sighed, not without a hefty dose of exasperation in her voice.

"Where  _is_  here?" Lucy repeated, feeling utterly helpless.

FLucy ignored her, reiterating, "I'll be back." And then she slipped out of the lifeboat without another word.

Lucy stared after her, peering out the hatch into the dark of night.

Helpless was an understatement.

She had no idea where she was, she had no idea  _when_  she was, and she most certainly had no idea  _why_  they were there, or, honestly, if she could even really trust this older version of herself. And judging by what she could see outside the lifeboat, she wasn't getting any extra information any time soon. The moon was actually fairly bright, but the ethereal blue glow illuminated nothing more than an empty field with a few trees in the distance. Absolutely nothing that could give her any sort of context.

Well, Lucy reminded herself begrudgingly, it wasn't entirely without context. At least she knew that they hadn't landed in Antarctica. Or the middle of the Sahara.

Still, the generic setting gave absolutely no clue about when they were. Even when she slid down the exterior of the lifeboat and crept cautiously around its perimeter to get a 360 view of her surrounds, there was nothing of note at all.

For as much as the bunker most certainly didn't feel like home, the unease settling in Lucy's stomach made her yearn to be back within the safety of its walls more than ever.

With the lifeboat the only shred of familiarity there in the field, and with no way of knowing how long the elder Lucy would be gone, Lucy climbed back into the time machine and shut the door behind her.

What would the rest of them in the bunker be thinking when they woke to the second lifeboat and both Lucys gone? What would  _Wyatt_  be thinking? Not that they were… anything to each other, not technically, not now, but still. If he realized the two of them were gone, with him in the dark about it, he'd absolutely lose his mind. Wouldn't he?

She kind of hoped so. Because the alternative was all sorts of depressing.

She did have to smile, however, at the mental image of Wyatt, if he did care, possibly flipping out at his older self once he realized. FWyatt would surely have some explaining to do.

The next thing she knew, she startled awake to the sound of the lifeboat door sliding open. She blinked in the bright light of the boat's interior as FLucy stuck her head in, beckoning for her to follow. Protesting had gotten her nowhere so far, so she crawled out the hatch, trailing behind her older self.

Just in front of the lifeboat sat a boxy-looking large sedan – 70s? 80s? – still running, and with the front passenger door open and waiting for her.

"Get in," instructed FLucy flatly.

Still in a bit of a daze of sleep – it's not as if she'd gotten a full night of rest before getting dragged out of the bunker in the first place – Lucy groggily slid down the sloped side of the lifeboat, practically landing in the car, given how closely it was parked. It was only as she was climbing in that she registered the row of lights atop the car. The stark divider between the backseat and the front sank in as she sat. By the time she zeroed in on the mangled set of wires dangling from beneath the dashboard, the alarm bells were really going off in her mind.

"Uh, what- This is a police car?" she gasped at FLucy, who was just situating herself in the driver's seat. "You  _stole_  a  _police_  car?"

This bold, cocky, older version of herself had the audacity to just smirk at her as she threw the car into gear.

"Are you serious?" Lucy gasped, practically ready to jump back out of the moving car. "You can't steal a police car!"

FLucy snorted, accelerating across the field. "Watch me."

Resigned to remaining in the car as the speed picked up, Lucy sat back, defeated. She was mentally kicking herself for not thinking to try to see the municipality that would have been on the car's door, or at least the license plate for the state. Or province. Or whatever.

She glanced around, again coming up with 70s or 80s as the only possibility for the car's vintage. But beyond that, she was still in the dark. Still, though she knew it was almost surely futile, she asked once more, "What are we doing? Why do we need-"

And of course, she got no answer. Instead, FLucy just cut her off, plucking a small bag from under her seat and flinging it over to Lucy. "Just put this on."

Perplexed, Lucy reached into the bag, only to become even more bewildered when she found rough, cheap fabric. Blue fabric. And stiff caps.

To go along with the car.

"And now we're impersonating cops?" she squeaked.

"Because we've never impersonated anyone before?" the older Lucy shot back wryly. "Sorry, I didn't realize I was actually a Nazi. Who happened to work at NASA. And as a nurse. And a reporter."

Lucy didn't really have a comeback for that, considering FLucy had a point. It just really wasn't sitting right that she had no idea why they were wherever, and whenever, they were. It was one thing to have even the vague goal of chasing after Emma or Flynn. But this? Unnerving didn't even begin to describe it.

Still, she had little leverage and, considering they were in a stolen police car, she rationalized that looking the part might actually be the best thing to do. So, reluctantly, Lucy slipped the clothes on, leaving the second set for her elder counterpart.

And then they drove. Past more trees, more fields, no other cars. A house in the distance every once in a while. But nothing of any consequence in terms of actually figuring out when or where they were, or what the purpose of them being there was.

Which, after not very long, started to grate at Lucy even more.

"Why can't you just tell me what we're doing here?" she blurted out. "What  _is_  it? And we're… when? 80-something, right?"

FLucy remained infuriatingly silent.

Which left Lucy scowling out the window.

And the two of them still driving.

Until the tiniest flash of something out of the ordinary at the side of the rural road caught Lucy's eye. "Stop!" she yelped. "Stop, stop! Wait," she cried, tugging off her seatbelt, reaching for the door handle.

FLucy looked over at her as if she were insane, rolling her eyes, asking, "What now?"

"Seriously, stop," Lucy pleaded, frantic. "I saw… I don't know," she stammered, trying to convince even herself that she did in fact see what she thought she saw. "I think I saw a kid."

That earned her a skeptical side-eye from her older self, but thankfully, the car slowed to a halt on the gravelly side of the road.

Lucy was out of the car as fast as humanly possible, and off and jogging back down the road immediately after climbing out.

And sure enough, a small figure sat huddled in the overgrowth just off the road.

"There's a kid!" Lucy called back to the car as she hurried over to the child.

She approached cautiously, always wary of a trap, but also not wanting to spook a poor, innocent little kid.

The moonlight didn't offer nearly enough in terms of illumination, but as she got closer, Lucy could see more clearly that the child was a small boy, probably school-aged, but still quite young. He wore what looked to be jeans, and a slightly-too-small t-shirt bearing the logo of some sports team that she didn't recognize. His feet were tucked up under him as he sat there, so she couldn't quite make out the shoes he wore, which might have helped narrow down the time period.

Not that the year was really of any concern for Lucy now knowing that there was a little kid alone out in the middle of nowhere.

She could see his gaze land on her as she advanced warily. "Hi," she offered hesitantly. "Are you ok? Are you lost?"

The little boy just stared up at her, wide-eyed, looking vaguely nervous and scared. Which wasn't helped when the crunch of FLucy's footsteps in the road gravel grew louder. The kid's gaze darted over in that direction; Lucy's followed. FLucy had changed into her own police outfit, lending an even more surreal quality to the scene, at least for Lucy, knowing that they truly were identical in their look.

But that hardly mattered considering that whatever FLucy's goal was for this jump and the police getups would have to wait. The kid was more important. The  _scared_  kid.

"Hey, it's ok," Lucy tried to soothe him, crouching down to his level. "What happened, bud? What are you doing out here by yourself?"

He just eyed her skeptically. And silently.

"It's ok," Lucy assured him, realizing that the police uniforms could conveniently work to their advantage as far as presenting themselves as trusted figured to the boy. "It's ok, we're pol-"

It was then that the seed of doubt was not only planted, but sprouted, in Lucy. Never mind the kid looking at them skeptically; she whirled around to FLucy skeptically herself, taking in the cheap police officer outfit. She'd thought finding the boy on the side of the road had been a coincidence. Could  _this_  have been meant to happen? Was this the reason they'd posed as police officers? Lucy just wasn't sure anymore.

But FLucy was stone-faced, and Lucy didn't want her own feelings of unease to spook the poor kid any more than he already was. "We're the police," she finally was able to state. "We can help you. Ok, buddy?"

There was another bit of uneasy darting of his gaze between the two Lucys, but eventually, the little boy let out a soft sigh of shame as he admitted, "…I got lost."

Lucy's heart went out to the little guy, knowing he had to be scared. She lowered herself to fully sit on the ground in front of him, asking, "How did that happen?"

"Daddy was playing cards, but I was sleepy and I wanted to go home, but he got mad and yelled and said I should just go home by myself before he spanked me for bothering him at cards," the boy explained, his sweet rambling style of speaking belying the unsettling words he was actually saying.

Lucy felt a tug in her chest as the boy relayed his tale; kids tended to exaggerate, sure, but something in there had to be true given that he was alone on the road in the dark.

"How old are you?" she asked softly, knowing the answer would be far too young for finding himself in this situation.

With a proud smile, the boy replied, "Five and a quarter."

Lucy couldn't stifle the soft smile that crept across her own face at the extra quarter he'd made sure to include, but it had still confirmed her suspicions about him being much too young to be there. "I'm so sorry, bud," she told him. "Your dad shouldn't have sent you out here alone."

"He does it a lot," he replied with a shrug. "If Grandpa's not here."

Lucy's head tilted in curiosity. "Where's your grandpa now?"

"He's getting a operation," came the explanation. "He said he comes home in three days," the boy added, holding up three fingers.

"Where's your mom?" Lucy asked, frowning at the poor kid's lack of supervision. "Or grandma?"

Except instead of his previously straightforward manner of replying, this time, the little guy's chin dropped to his chest. With a heavy sigh, he replied quietly, "In heaven."

Lucy's eyes fell shut as she mentally chastised herself for shoving her big foot in her mouth. Her heart ached for the little boy, and tears stung her eyes. Even more than before, she vowed to get the kid to safety, whether FLucy wanted to or not.

"Ok, bud," she promised him. "We'll get you home." And, darting her gaze up and down the deserted road, she asked carefully, "You don't know where you live?"

He let out a little sniffle, shaking his head. "I forgot."

"It's ok, buddy," Lucy reassured him. "What about your name? Maybe we can figure out where you live if we know your name."

He sniffled again, before looking up, replying, "Wyatt."

Lucy's blood ran cold.

Reflexively, she reached for the boy, tilting his chin upward to catch as much of the dim moonlight as possible as she desperately scanned over his little face. "What's your last name?" she managed to choke out shakily, still trying to convince herself that the eyes, silvery in the moon's glow, weren't the same clear blue ones she knew.

He blinked up at her, seemingly unconcerned by her sudden alarm and change in behavior. "Logan," he replied.

Tears already streaming down her face, and feeling completely blindsided, Lucy whirled around accusingly at her older self. But where she thought she'd find only the hardened, stern expression that FLucy always seemed to wear, Lucy was shocked to see her elder self furtively wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.

The urge to ream out FLucy faded, and Lucy turned back to Wyatt.

It was awful, seeing him like that, in that situation. But in spite of the pain of seeing him like this, Lucy couldn't help but feel thrilled, and so lucky, to be able to see the little person that would grow to be such a wonderful man, in spite of a childhood full of situations just like this one.

Still unabashedly crying – and probably verging on freaking out little Wyatt in doing so – Lucy couldn't help but smile at the same time. She gazed at him again. The moon still didn't allow for the clarity she'd have liked, but she could see Wyatt in there. The hints of dimples hiding on his rounded, chubby cheeks. The crooked smirk of a smile. The crinkle of laughter near his eyes.

His hair was a little lighter, she thought, and the strong jaw of thirty years from now was still hidden by the softness of youth, but he was in there.

"Hi, Wyatt," Lucy murmured, blinking away more tears. "I'm L-"

"Liz," FLucy interjected sharply, with a swift kick to Lucy's thigh. "She's Liz. Officer Elizabeth," she revised, surprising Lucy by bringing up her –  _their_ , really – middle name instead of just using their real name. Then again, she realized, they couldn't exactly go by Lucy, certainly not both of them, anyway. And who knows would stick in little Wyatt's mind over the years. Probably best to use the alibi.

But acknowledging that didn't make it any less of a figurative punch in the gut when FLucy declared, "And I'm Officer Amy."

She wasn't allowed time to dwell on the reminder of her sister – and the fact that FLucy had yet to let on if they were ever able to get her back – because Wyatt eyed the two of them curiously, pointing out, "You look the same."

"We're twins," the older Lucy explained quickly.

"Right," Lucy stammered, a bit rattled by the mental leap from her  _real_  sister to this other version of herself posing as the mysterious future sister she never wanted. "Yes. We are."

But none of that really mattered. Not when Wyatt –  _Wyatt_ , real, honest-to-god, 5 year-old Wyatt – was sitting in front of them, lost and alone.

"Ok, Wyatt," Lucy began, trying to wipe away the remnants of her tears, even as more threatened, simply because he was actually  _there_ , right in front of her in… 1989? "Your dad never should have sent you out at night by yourself, bud," she assured him as best she could. "We're going to find your house and bring you home, ok?"

She was horrified, and heartbroken, when, instead of the comforted sense she'd hoped her words would give him, despair set in. His beautiful little face crumpled and was followed in quick succession by tears of his own streaking down his cheeks as he sobbed loudly.

"What's wrong?" Lucy asked hurriedly, reaching to rub his shoulder in whatever show of comfort she could without being overbearing.

His eyes wide and shiny, little Wyatt looked up at her, sniffling. "I made Daddy mad and he's going to be more mad if he knows I got lost and I promised Grandpa I'd be good when he's in the hospital but I wasn't and I made Daddy really mad." His tiny shoulders shook under Lucy's hand as he finished his worried ramble.

Memories of hushed admissions while tucked away in the trunk of a racecar flickered through Lucy's mind, even more heartbreaking now that she realized just how young Wyatt had been when all of that started.

"Wyatt, buddy, it's not your fault if you got sleepy. It's late," she whispered, her voice strained. "Your dad should have brought you home to go to bed."

"But Daddy's mad," he whimpered as he swiped at his damp cheeks. "I broke my promise."

"It's ok," Lucy tried to soothe. "It's ok."

But she knew just as well as he did, and just as well as 34 year-old Wyatt knew, that none of that was ok. And the more the reality of the situation sank in, the more angry Lucy grew. At the situation. At Wyatt's father. And at someone else.

She was half-listening as Wyatt bemoaned further, hanging his head, "Now Grandpa will be mad too. You can't break promises. I was bad. I tried to be good but I'm just bad. Like Daddy says."

"No, Wyatt…" Lucy trailed off, anger bubbling up in her chest. "Hang on one second, bud."

And with that, she jumped to her feet and grabbed at her other self's elbow, dragging her out of earshot. "What the hell is this?" she hissed, furious. "You thought I wanted to see  _this_?"

"It's not about  _want_ ," FLucy shot right back. "You think I want to see this either?"

"But I  _needed_  to see this?" Lucy cried incredulously. "See how shitty his father treated him?"

The older Lucy just shook her head, almost as if in defeat. "It's not just that."

"I-" Confused, Lucy began to stammer out a response, but trailed off. What  _was_  this time jump about? Obviously, coming across Wyatt was no accident; he'd been the goal all along. But why?

She didn't have time to dwell on that any further; behind them, Wyatt let out another soft sniffle. And whatever FLucy's motivations were for dragging her on this trip, none of them took precedent over a lost, scared, basically neglected child. Certainly not when that child was Wyatt.

"We have to do something," she urged, unable to ignore Wyatt's distress. "We can't just bring him home and leave him there alone."

"We have to," FLucy countered. "We can't change this. You  _know_  we can't."

And for as much as Lucy knew it was the truth, she snapped, "We're already changing it! We're here!"

Which earned her her own dragging further away from little Wyatt by her elder self, who shot right back, "We're twenty minutes earlier than the  _actual_  cops that found him anyway. But they were dicks – just some of his fucking  _awful_ father's drinking buddies and they didn't do anything about the situation either," she finished, glaring at Lucy sternly. "We bring him home, and that's it."

"But-" Lucy spluttered, knowing that her older self was 100% right, but hating that she was. With no better counter-argument, she could do nothing but sigh in resignation.

She then turned back to face little Wyatt, catching him in the midst of a nearly head-splitting yawn. The whole mess of the night had started because he'd been tired; it was a wonder the poor kid had stayed awake this long.

"Oh, bud, I'm sorry," she apologized. "Let's get you home, ok? Officer …Amy knows where your house is, ok?"

But all Wyatt could manage, apparently, was a sleepy nod, his eyelids blinking and heavy with the slumber that threatened.

Lucy was no stranger to feeling protective of Wyatt – when he'd been shot, when he'd been resigned to sacrificing himself at the Alamo, when his trip to 1983 had failed to bring Jessica back.

When he'd relayed all the miserable tales of his father's horrible treatment in that automotive garage.

And now, seeing the effects of that horrible treatment already taking hold in him as such a small, innocent little child? Left alone, falling asleep on the side of the road at night?

With this new phase of time travel being so recent, Lucy didn't know the rules of how close one should really get to versions of people that they knew in their normal lives. But at that moment, there was pretty much nothing that could have stopped the overwhelming urge to just scoop him up and protect him from everything she possibly could.

Which is exactly what she did.

Hurrying over to where he still sat, yawning and cross-legged, at the side of the road, Lucy leaned over and lifted the little boy up into her arms, murmuring, "Ok, c'mere."

Lucy had to pause and take a shaky breath, knowing this was  _Wyatt_ propped up on her hip, wrapping his pudgy little arms around her neck and resting his head on her shoulder.

She _hated_  his father for putting him through this, and for everything else that he would still put him through. She _hated_ that, even already at 5 years old, Wyatt was already thinking that something as simple and innocent as being tired was somehow his fault and worthy of his father's ire.

His talk of promises, of not breaking promises, also rattled around in her mind, but before she could dwell on it, she'd reached the police car, where her future counterpart was waiting.

Lucy glanced down at the seating options in the car and hugged little Wyatt closer. Eyeing FLucy, she declared, perhaps a bit too confrontationally, "I am  _not_  putting him in the back of a police car when he already thinks he did something wrong."

Her older self merely held her hands up in mock surrender and climbed into the driver's seat.

So, carefully maneuvering the snoozy Wyatt, Lucy eased herself into the passenger seat, settling him on her lap. And with a sidelong glance over at FLucy, she asked, "You know where we're going?"

FLucy gave a stoic nod as she started the car, confirming, "Yeah."

And as they took off down the road, Lucy cradled the sleeping little boy against her, hugging him closer as she let her eyes fall shut. It was utterly heartbreaking to know how he'd had to live, and to know there wasn't a damn thing she could do about it.

"It's not as bad when Grandpa Sherwin is here," came a hushed voice suddenly from the other side of the car.

Lucy's eyes flew open to focus on her older self. "He's in the hospital?"

"Minor surgery for a hernia," she confirmed softly. "He's fine."

The two fell silent again as they drove further down the road.

And with nothing but the quiet and Wyatt's little warm body cuddled up to her, all Lucy could think is that she really just wished she could whisk him away from this place, this life, and somehow still have him turn out to be the amazingly wonderful man he'd grown up to be.

Maybe a little too wonderful, she lamented, little Wyatt's words about keeping promises once again nagging at her thoughts. As far back as Germany, Grandpa Sherwin had sounded great on all accounts, but all the talk of promises that was clearly weighing on the little boy… It had clearly made such an impression on Wyatt, even this young. Maybe too much of one. Was that what she was supposed to see here? That promises were so ingrained in little Wyatt that thirty years later he felt obligated to be with Jessica because of a marriage license, even though he'd apparently started to fall in love with someone else?

Not that Lucy had really been able to convince herself that Wyatt could ever possibly really mean those three little words he'd let slip out just before the other lifeboat had appeared from the future…

But was  _that_  the point of all this, of having to see him suffering so young? To see just how he'd been shaped and just how much those wedding vows and loyalty had meant to him, even in the face of a new relationship?

Was that really-

Lucy's train of thought was interrupted when the car pulled up to a small, ramshackle little house. Her heart ached that much more at the sight of it.

Impulsively, Lucy pressed a furtive kiss to the silky mop of hair atop Wyatt's head before rousing him gently. "Wyatt? Is this your house?" she asked, keeping her voice soft.

The little guy blinked awake and rubbed his eyes as a smile spread across his face. "Uh huh," he nodded, reaching for the door handle and scrambling off Lucy's lap.

Lucy looked on sadly as Wyatt, clearly a practiced latchkey kid already at age 5, fumbled around under one of the porch steps before surfacing with a key and heading for the front door.

"Go," FLucy spoke up suddenly, surprising Lucy. "We can stay until his father gets back. I'll hide the car and catch up."

Lucy blinked hard at her counterpart, stunned and fully having expected her to push to leave right away. But she wasn't about to miss out on the chance. So she hurried to follow little Wyatt, catching up on the porch just as he triumphantly worked the door open. He scurried right back down the porch stairs to re-hide the key. Just ask quickly, he was back by Lucy's side, asking, "Wanna see my room?"

Yet again, tears sprang to Lucy's eyes for no particular reason other than the fact that she was getting to interact with this perfect little version of Wyatt, but under such awful circumstances. She managed to keep the tears at bay enough to shoot a smile and nod in little Wyatt's direction, allowing him to lead her into the house.

She actually breathed a sigh of relief when it turned out that the interior of the house wasn't as run down as the outside suggested. The furnishing was a little sparse, and the drapes and lampshades dingy, but it was actually mostly ok.

When Lucy followed Wyatt down the hall to his room, she was dismayed to find his bedroom just as sparsely furnished and decorated as the rest of the house, with few toys or books in sight. So different from her own upbringing, a fact which immediately made her feel guilty for essentially having been spoiled and having taken so much of it for granted.

Thankfully, at 5, Wyatt still seemed mostly indifferent or unaware of how little he had, for he proudly held out one of his few toys to Lucy, declaring, "I have a Ninja Turtle."

"That's really fun," Lucy chirped, forcing a smile as Wyatt let out another yawn, reminding her that he'd been tired for a while now. She supposed she should steer him in the direction of bedtime. "Do you have any books you like?" she suggested. "I could read you a story before you fall asleep."

Wyatt seemed to mull over the offer for a moment before nodding, "Ok," he agreed. "But you have to leave first."

Confused, Lucy asked, "What?"

"You're a girl," little Wyatt giggled, adding what he clearly felt should have been obvious, "you can't see my put my PJs on."

Letting Wyatt escort her back into the hall, a little chuckle bubbled up from Lucy's throat of its own accord as what she could only describe as a sense of wistfully bittersweet amusement washed over her. It was strange to think about, given the fact that he was just a kindergarten kid right then, but little did that kiddo know what he was in for almost thirty years later – but also almost fifty years earlier – when he'd had a rather contrary sentiment to that one, with her in Hollywood.

Of course, bringing that memory to mind just ushered in a whole suite of bittersweet memories for Lucy, so she was ever so grateful when this kindergarten version of Wyatt popped back out into the hallway to distract her from dwelling too long on regrets concerning thirty-four year-old Wyatt.

"Ok," he announced, sporting a pair of Superman pajamas that were very clearly too short in the legs and sleeves, "you can come in."

Lucy followed him, a soft ache in her chest again as she watched him pluck a book from a shelf and then climb into bed to get situated under the covers. Once he was settled, she gingerly perched on the edge of his narrow bed and reached for the book he'd grabbed.

She was surprised to find it was a battered copy of  _James and the Giant Peach_ , one that she might have thought would have been a little beyond his reading level, but also one of her own favorites back when she was right about his age. Still, she realized, maybe it wasn't all that out of line considering that a few decades later, he was still a pretty dedicated reader of British literature. Or at least the Bond subgenre of British lit, she smirked to herself.

It was only a few minutes into the book when Wyatt was already out cold. So Lucy set down the book, and mentally told herself to get up and leave him to sleep, but she couldn't bring herself to go. Her hand drifted automatically to the soft shock of hair on his head; she gently smoothed it out where changing clothes had mussed it, and let her hand wander further so her thumb skimmed over his baby-soft cheek and jaw.

She loved him.

This little him. 2018 him. Every him.

And she should have told him as much, as soon as he'd admitted the same to her. So she vowed right there to do it as soon as they got back to the present. He deserved to hear it, even knowing that enough had happened between them that it might not solve anything. She owed him that.

She just wished things could have been different for them.

Though really, he deserved something better and different over the entirety of his life, not just when it came to her.

Lucy remained there, just watching the little boy sleep, and wishing for all the differences they could never go back and create.

She wasn't sure how long she'd been there when she caught the slightest of noises off to her side. She jumped, nearly slipping off the bed, terrified she'd been caught by Wyatt's father.

To her great relief, it was only FLucy, but sniffling herself and looking far more affected by the sight of little slumbering Wyatt than Lucy would have ever expected from this hard-nosed, mildly terrifying version of herself.

Which would only really make sense if… "Have you… seen him, like this, before?" Lucy ventured cautiously.

"…no," the elder Lucy confirmed, her voice strained and hushed.

It struck Lucy as odd, knowing that the capabilities to have done so were obviously available to her older self.

She just fervently hoped that it wasn't for her future self's lack of emotional investment in Wyatt that she'd stayed away from such sights. The two future versions of themselves had been particularly tight-lipped about the nature of the working, or otherwise, relationship between them, but Lucy clung to the hope, however irrational it might have been, that somehow something would work out for the two of them.

FLucy crept over to the bed and lowered herself to sit just beyond little Wyatt's feet. She made no move to hurry Lucy along, so Lucy was perfectly content to just stay with him.

They sat for who knows how long, until the crunch of gravel outside made its way to their ears.

Lucy froze. Wyatt's father.

FLucy had said she would hide the police car out of sight, but now they were stuck in the house with no plausible explanation for why they were there.

Thankfully, her older self, having obviously been more in the know about the jump in the first place, sprang to life more quickly than Lucy herself did. In a flash, FLucy was up off the bed, grabbing Lucy's wrist, and dragging her over to the small closet in the corner of Wyatt's room.

They hid inside, straining to hear the sounds of Wyatt's father drunkenly fumbling his way into the house. There were a few clumsy-sounding thuds from out in the kitchen or living room, and then quiet.

Lucy breathed a sigh of relief into the darkness of the closet. Well, half-relief. She was grateful that Wyatt's father hadn't ventured down the hall, closer to finding the two of them hiding, but on the other hand, rage bubbled in her on little Wyatt's behalf. What kind of parent sent their barely school-aged child to walk home alone at night and then didn't even bother to check on him and see if he'd made it home ok?

As if FLucy could actually read Lucy's thoughts, a soft "He made it through. He's ok when he's older; you know that," made its way through the inky dark of the closet. Lucy shivered, spooked by the eerie prescience of this other version of herself. It made her just uncomfortable enough that she dared to crack open the closet door.

Wyatt was still asleep and no sound came from the rest of the house.

So she stepped out, with FLucy close behind.

Lucy cast one last melancholy glance over at little 5 year-old Wyatt, then followed FLucy carefully down the hall.

She froze, and bile stung the back of her throat when she caught sight of Wyatt's father, still nameless and faceless to her, passed out on his stomach on the couch in the living room.

She hated him.  _Hated_  him. For everything he'd done to, and hadn't done for, poor Wyatt. And, given more time and a little more gumption, she might have actually recklessly done something foolish in that moment, but thankfully, her elder self had a little more sense and dragged her swiftly out the front door.

Lucy almost expected a lecture after that, but FLucy just walked away wordlessly.

Though she'd been expected to arrive wherever the police car had been stashed, it was only a few short moments later that Lucy found herself staring up at the lifeboat, the totebag from the car resting on it, with their regular clothes stashed inside.

"Didn't we… come farther than that?" She stammered in confusion.

FLucy just rolled her eyes and hauled herself up into the time machine with the bag of their clothes. Once inside, she turned and offered a hand to help Lucy up. "I was driving in circles. We'd already passed him once. I'm just glad you finally saw him so we didn't have to do more laps," she chuckled snidely.

Lucy's eyes widened, surprised at just how anxious and on-edge she must have been to have missed such a blatantly obvious setup.

Not that she wasn't still on edge. Wyatt had put himself out there, told her that he loved her, and she'd held back. Held back for reasons that she couldn't quite put her finger on. Yes, it had hurt like hell when he'd chosen Jessica, but it's not as if she hadn't seen the obvious logic in him doing so.

But, now, she supposed, it had been more than just logic, hadn't it? Hadn't that been what this little venture had been about? Seeing just how deep-seated and emotional his instinct to do the right thing by Jessica had been?

It didn't really change how Lucy felt about Wyatt, but she did now feel a deeper sense of urgency to just  _talk_  to him. Knowing this about him, seeing this side of his life… She just needed him. Needed to talk, see where they truly stood, and come clean about all the feelings she'd been keeping bottled up since that damn text chime in the bunker hallway. And before then. And the new ones from today.

Maybe she had really needed this push.

Maybe she shouldn't have gotten so angry at her older self.

The two of them settled in the lifeboat, seatbelts buckled, Lucy tentatively reached for FLucy's shoulder before she began the complicated routine of flipping switches and levers and such.

"…thank you," Lucy stammered, not quite sure what sentiment she was really meaning to express. "I- Just- Thank you."

The older Lucy was silent, still for a moment, then offered a slight nod of acknowledgment before turning back to the lifeboat controls.

And just like that, 1989 was back to being a mere memory.

**To be continued…**


	3. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Real life is a beast. I still haven't caught up on reading fics - to all the other authors who haven't given up on the fandom, I will get to reading/reviewing soon. Pinky swear. In the meantime, I managed to pick away at this little AU. (Because it most definitely is AU now that the finale has aired...)
> 
> Thanks much to _qwertygal_ for the beta!

 

Lucy flung off her seatbelt and scrambled toward the door as soon as the lifeboat's roar dulled to a hum. She needed to see Wyatt.

But when her older self set the round hatch to open, Lucy's heart seized.

She wasn't greeted with the sight of the dingy bunker, both Wyatts zonked out on the terrible couches.

It was another field, this time with the bright glow of stadium lights off in the distance.

"Seriously?" Lucy barked, whirling around to glare at her future counterpart.

FLucy wasn't fazed, and merely nodded over at where the totebag that contained their modern clothes lay on the floor behind Lucy's seat. "Put your stuff back on," she instructed. "This too," she added, flinging at Lucy's head what looked to be a hooded sweatshirt and baseball cap that she'd plucked from under the pilot seat.

Dismayed, Lucy eyed the new clothing warily. Not that she recognized many sports logos, but she knew enough to know that this cartoony mascot was no pro team. She glanced back outside.

The same kind of broad field they'd been in earlier. The stadium. The amateur logo.

A sinking feeling settled in her stomach. She knew.

They were at a high school football game. In Texas. Probably somewhere right around the year 2000, assuming the subject of their last jump was now a student at said high school…

Lucy sighed, and scowled at FLucy over her shoulder. "The last one wasn't enough?" she snapped. Seeing little tiny Wyatt had been enough, hadn't it? Seeing that long-standing desire to just do the right thing? Knowing that it was the same thing, that same duty and obligation, that had driven him to be with Jessica when she'd come back? That it wasn't necessarily a lack of desire for Lucy?

FLucy just shrugged as she pulled off the imitation police uniform in favor of her initial outfit. And her own hooded sweatshirt. And an awful reddish-blonde wig.

Which didn't bode well for Lucy being able to convince her to just go back to the bunker instead.

She must have been staring in some degree of horror at the wig; FLucy just smirked as she pulled on her own baseball cap over the fake hair. "Can't have him seeing the same twins again, weirdly the same age when it's ten years later, now can we?"

Ten years, Lucy sighed inwardly. Fifteen. 1999. She'd been right. They were going to see Wyatt when he was fifteen. She shook her head, trying to ward off the tears that threatened at just the thought of having to see him during what was surely the phase he'd described in Wendell's garage and the trunk of that car, when his father was so, so horrible to him.

But again, she didn't really have an option here, it seemed. FLucy was already ducking out of the lifeboat and glaring impatiently back up at Lucy to get her to follow.

Resigned, Lucy obeyed silently, the only saving grace that she could possibly cling to being the fact that Jessica had said they'd been together since senior year. If Wyatt was only fifteen, at least she wouldn't be subjected to…  _them._ Because she was pretty sure that Wyatt and Jessica together at any age was something she never, ever needed to witness again.

In the absence of anything to look forward to on this jump, as she followed FLucy, Lucy tried to focus on the memory of the sweet, little five year-old version of Wyatt gently snuggling up to her as he'd dozed off in her arms back in 1989. And the hope that, if she could ever get her future self to bring them back to 2018, she could maybe,  _maybe,_  one day have 34 year-old Wyatt back in her arms. If stupid FLucy would just bring her back to the present so she could just  _talk_  to him.

And, for a fleeting second, without her permission, her brain went a step further and envisioned not little Wyatt in her arms, but their own little boy, looking much the same as his father had back in 1989.

The little boy they'd probably never have, Lucy reminded herself with a sigh, trudging through the field after FLucy and trying to push that notion from her mind as quickly as she could. Considering what shaky ground they were on after the Jessica fiasco, the last thing she needed was to get her hopes up about any sort of a future with Wyatt, even if she did get to talk things through with him once they finally got back to 2018.

In the end, that sort of thinking was quickly quashed anyway by the noise and hubbub around them as they slipped through the treeline at the edge of the field and emerged into the throng of teenagers and townsfolk lined up to enter the stadium.

If nothing else, Lucy could at least shake her head and smile at the low-rise jeans, tiny t-shirts, clunky sneakers, and butterfly hair clips that so many of her friends had worn and now looked even sillier in retrospect.

It didn't take long for the two of them to make their way through the entry gate, at which point FLucy grabbed her elbow and roughly dragged her to the far end of the stadium. When they finally reached the last aisle, FLucy shoved her toward the stairs with a gruff, "Up there."

Lucy glared over her shoulder at her older self for a moment, but with the crowd around them also looking to head up the stairs, it's not as if she could really protest. What, exactly, would she do instead anyway?

So up she climbed, craning her neck and doing her best to scan the crowd as she went, seeking out Wyatt.

But she didn't find him. And before she knew it, they were at the top row of the stadium, and FLucy was pushing her down the row.

The crowd was rather sparse up there, and Lucy couldn't figure out why they'd be so far out of the way. She turned to her counterpart, eyeing her incredulously, demanding, "Now what?"

FLucy just shrugged, nonchalant, and dryly suggested, "We could get popcorn?"

Lucy scoffed in exasperation; she really hoped that she didn't become that much of an asshole in the next few years. But to be honest, in that moment, FLucy was the least of her worries. Forcing herself to ignore her elder self's rude snark, she redoubled her efforts to locate Wyatt.

Minutes ticked by, and she still wasn't seeing him in the crowds. He couldn't look that different from his adult look, could he? Or was he  _playing_? In the game? Her gaze darted to the warm-ups going on down on the field to no avail; even if she could have read the names that far away, both teams' jerseys bore nothing but numbers on the back.

She frowned. No. She'd have known if he'd played football. Wouldn't she?

Lucy's shoulders slumped as she realized that no, she wouldn't necessarily know. They'd been a couple – if you could really even call them that – for all of a day and a half, the bulk of which had been spent either asleep or in a car with Rufus as a chaperone. Who knows how much there was about him that she never had the privilege of learning. And, at this rate, probably never would.

As wrapped up as she let herself get in that depressing line of thinking, she almost missed the skinny, brown-haired boy making his way down the row in front of them until he was practically on top of them.

Once she did see him, her breath caught in her throat; there was no mistaking that baby-face, so similar to the very few times she'd seen him clean-shaven. He continued just past them, and Lucy couldn't help but steal glances in his direction once he chose his spot to stand.

His hair had darkened from the sandier color of his youth to what she knew from their own time, shorter here, and spiked up a bit. And he'd clearly hit a serious growth spurt already; Lucy was obviously taller than him given that she was elevated in the row behind him, but he still had to be nearly his adult height. The slightly baggy jeans and zip-up hooded sweatshirt couldn't hide that his gangly form had most definitely not yet filled out with the muscle that must eventually come from enlisting in the military.

The other thing he really couldn't hide? That he was sitting alone, and not quite comfortable with it. His gaze darted about, and where a modern teenager would have just busied themselves on their smartphone, this younger Wyatt was left to shift his weight around impatiently.

An endearing scene that sent a rush of affection washing over Lucy.

Her heart went out to this Wyatt, not yet comfortable in his own skin, a sentiment that resonated a little too much with her given her own teenage experiences. Hell, she's not even always comfortable in her own skin now. But this Wyatt… God, she just wanted to give him a hug and tell him that it really would be ok someday. That his father wouldn't always be in his life as the monster he is now.

If seeing little kindergarten Wyatt had made Lucy finally really and truly acknowledge that she loved him, this high school Wyatt just reinforced that truth a million times over.

Watching him, just taking in the sight of this version of him… She'd almost managed to forget that there would have been a reason that FLucy chose this day, this time, much as she'd selected the specific night that little Wyatt was out there on the road.

But then a group of giggling girls made their way up the stairs in their direction, and Wyatt, in a voice not yet fully deepened with age, gave them an awkward nod of acknowledgement as they entered his row. "…is Jess coming?" he inquired tentatively.

_Jess._

Lucy's stomach nearly revolted.

It wasn't as if Jessica was some rare, unique name in their age group; it could have been someone else. It probably could have been about fifty someone elses, just in the student population of that one school. But she had a sinking feeling that she knew exactly which Jessica he was asking about.

She tensed when some little 'too-cool-for school' brat out of the group of girls gave Wyatt a haughty once over and sneered, "Yeah, she's coming."

None of which made any sense. Lucy's mind raced – hadn't Jessica said that they'd been together since senior year? And they were what, sophomores now? Maybe it  _was_  a different Jessica… But more than that, what on earth was with the holier-than-thou attitude from the girls? Lucy glanced once more at the young Wyatt – sure, his clothes probably weren't any sort of brand name, but he certainly didn't look out of place…

But the girls looked over at him and snickered, and Lucy's face fell just as young Wyatt's did. Teenagers were awful. Where she'd once imagined Wyatt to be the popular, good-looking kid who got all the girls, this snotty little clique was more than likely proving that he was exactly the opposite, some sort of undeserving outcast, probably related to his tumultuous family issues and their less than well-off financial situation, as if that somehow made him less than. Which made her blood boil, that same protective instinct she always felt when it came to Wyatt flickering back to life once more.

Lucy was halfway to impetuously giving the little brats a piece of her mind against her better judgement when a grating, all-too-familiar voice rang out over the group of girls.

Jessica.

Coming up the stairs towards the group. Younger, blonder, and clearly already wielding her cleavage like a weapon with a deep v-neck. Same old Jessica, Lucy groaned inwardly.

Lucy's stomach turned yet again at the mere sight of the girl, and she truly did almost vomit a moment later when, after shoving past her friends to get to Wyatt, Jessica proceeded to greet Wyatt first with a "Hey" and a smile, then proceeded to unceremoniously shove her tongue into his mouth in a messy, overenthusiastic kiss.

Jessica's friends snickered immediately, and Lucy's defenses flared because it was eminently clear that they thought he was little more than a joke.

Lucy was even more unsettled when, as she averted her eyes from the sight of the two teens slobbering all over each other, she caught a glimpse of the older Lucy doing the exact same thing and looking away with a grimace. Not that she ever expected to truly be able to 100% forget the pain of Wyatt going back to Jessica, but it didn't seem to bode well for whatever she and Wyatt might turn out to be in the future if FLucy still couldn't stomach the notion of him with Jessica either.

Rather than dwell any longer on that depressing thought, Lucy cautiously turned back to the row of kids in front of her. Thankfully, Jessica had pried herself off Wyatt and gone back to whispering with her friends.

But, to Lucy's dismay, after what looked like Jessica getting handed something by one of the friends, the girl turned back to Wyatt wearing a wide grin and gripping a flask. "Look what Jen snuck in for me," she declared to him in a singsong voice.

_Caught drinking on campus and got barred from the prom._

Anger bubbled up in Lucy. Anger at Jessica for bringing the flask. Anger at the snobby girls thinking they were somehow better than him. And disappointment in Wyatt, despite having come into this already knowing that he'd gotten into some trouble back then.

But a rush of pride surged through her and took the place of that disappointment when Wyatt's response to being presented with the alcohol was actually to eye it skeptically and give half a head shake with his nose wrinkled.

But that didn't deter Jessica, who took a slug from the flask and then went right back to laying another sloppy kiss on Wyatt.

Lucy cringed, even more so when Wyatt pulled back, wearing the smirk that just looked so  _him_ , and beckoned for the flask. Gone was any hesitance as he took his own pull off the flask and then pulled Jessica to him again.

Lucy's heart sank. She knew there was nothing that she could do to change it; they couldn't change this part of his past any more than they could have changed that night when he'd been lost on the side of the road, but it still hurt to see him just now starting to embark on the rebellious, rule-breaking path, even as his instincts still seemed to fall on the right side of the line.

But, to that point, she'd managed to forget the even more devious aspect of his wayward youth.

Until the wildly inappropriate kissing stopped, leaving Jessica to glance around furtively before whispering, though still just loud enough for the Lucys to hear. "So," she hissed, "can you get one of your dad's cars to… you know. Do the pickup for Katie's brother?"

The hairs on the back of Lucy's neck stood up as the pieces started to come together in her mind.

Cars. Pickup. Fifteen.

_I used to run stuff across the Texas border._

Wyatt shifted, looking uncomfortable, and was practically squirming as he protested weakly, "Jess…"

"Oh come on,  _please_?" Jessica whined, wrapping herself around Wyatt in her plea. "You  _know_  I don't have a car."

"Yeah, but  _Mexico_?" Wyatt whispered skeptically. "My dad will beat my ass."

And there it was, Lucy sighed, crestfallen. The drug smuggling.

"Not if we don't do anything to the car," Jessica scoffed. "That's all he cares about," she added pointedly. "He doesn't care what  _you_  do."

"No shit," Wyatt mumbled darkly in return, looking away.

Which flat out devastated Lucy to hear. It was one thing to be a little kid, treated poorly by your parent, but to still be innocent enough to not really realize how bad things were. It was a wholly different thing to be a fully aware, yet still impressionable, teenager that knew exactly how little his father cared.

And, infuriatingly, Jessica seemed to know that that was exactly the button she needed to push. "But _I_  care. I  _love_  you," she purred, her voice sugary sweet. "Come on, babe," she pleaded.

Lucy had thought that seeing their clumsy efforts at making out had been the most off-putting sight she'd witness there that night, but this was another level, leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. She was flat out  _disgusted_  by Jessica's blatant emotional exploitation of him as far back as when they were only fifteen.

To Wyatt's credit, he still looked hesitant, his gaze darting around nervously as he hissed, "I know, I love you too, but… drugs?

"Wyatt… Please?" Jessica begged in a nasal whine. "Do you know how much cash we'll get? Your grandfather isn't around anymore – you don't have to be such a goody two shoes."

Lucy's jaw dropped at that news and she shot a questioning glance at FLucy, who just mouthed back, "Two years ago." Lucy felt even more deflated; she hadn't known when Grandpa Sherwin had passed away. Yet another thing she should have known about Wyatt and his life, and maybe  _would_  have known, had things not gotten so royally screwed up between them.

She sniffled, feeling her eyes water as everything about this jump just felt like it was piling on her all of a sudden.

Not knowing these little things about him, despite how strongly she felt for him. The nasty girls judging him, for whatever their petty reasons were. Seeing him with Jessica. Seeing him  _at all_ , honestly. Knowing he'd lost his beloved grandfather. Knowing he was left with only a miserable father and his malicious, scheming shrew of a girlfriend. Knowing that it was only going to get worse. And not being able to do anything to fix it for this downtrodden, impressionable, yet still somehow innocent, Wyatt.

She  _so_  wanted to just… make it better for him.

But she couldn't.

And Jessica wasn't done making it worse yet anyway, with her conniving attempt to sway Wyatt into partaking in her felonious aspirations. "Serious cash, Wyatt," she insisted. "Do it enough, save enough, and we get the hell out of here as soon as we graduate. Just you and me," Jessica added, with saccharine levels of fake sweetness.

Lucy died a little inside when, looking pleased with the notion of getting out of his current life, Wyatt took a deep breath and agreed to Jessica's proposed drug deal with a soft,"…ok."

Jessica's shrill squeal of delight grated, and Lucy had to turn away.

Not that that saved her from having to hear Jessica gushing with gratitude. "Yes! Thank you, babe," she yelped, and followed it up with what sounded to Lucy like another nauseatingly over-the-top kiss and then another, "I love you."

Lucy bit her lip, pacing and nearly hyperventilating as she fought a losing battle in trying to keep her composure.

The drugs, the drinking… All because of Jessica?  _Jessica_  had taken advantage of Wyatt,  _Jessica_  had been the one to drag him into those things.

And he'd gone along with it.

But  _why_? Because he thought that only Jessica loved him, cared about him? That  _that_  was all he had?

It was a crushing realization for Lucy.

Especially when the second realization dawned. She, Lucy, the one who really  _did_  love him for him, had let him believe the same all over again as adults. That all he'd had was Jessica. She'd put him right back into the shoes of this scrawny, insecure kid who seemed desperate to cling to the one person who was showing him any sort of affection. She'd let him believe that what they had, their night in Hollywood,  _everything_ , meant nothing to her, and she'd pushed him back to this awful, manipulative bitch without ever telling him how much he meant to her. How much she loved him with all her heart.

Lucy couldn't take it anymore. With tears threatening, she pushed past FLucy, who was apparently too caught off-guard to spring into action and stop her. She flew down the bleacher steps, helpless to stop the tears, and by the time she reached the bottom, it was all she could do to duck beneath the stands before she doubled over, bawling and nearly retching.

She'd let him think she was just one more person who didn't care about him. When he'd first called about Jessica, and again sitting there on the damp, dingy floor. She'd let him think she didn't care.

Lucy sobbed harder, her heart breaking for Wyatt given what she'd done to him.

And then she nearly jumped out of her skin, choking on phlegm and coughing when she felt a tentative hand on her shoulder.

"Are you ok, ma'am?"

Lucy's heart jumped into her throat and her gaze shot up as she leapt away like she'd been burned.

Familiar blue eyes scrutinized her with concern.

Her heart ached.

Of  _course_  it was him. Never mind that he'd have had no reason to follow her, or to come down from the bleachers at all. There he was anyway. Even in the midst of feeling like all he had was Jessica, and subsequently being…  _corrupted_ by her, somewhere deep down, he was still a budding gentleman with a heart of gold.

Which just made her want to break down all over again.

Lucy sniffled, doing everything in her power to keep the next onslaught of tears at bay. And, wiping at her eyes, she forced a smile and nodded at Wyatt. "I'll be ok. Thank you."

But this gangly young Wyatt didn't seem entirely convinced, and he even squinted at her, the tiniest hint of recognition creeping into his confused expression.

Lucy's eyes widened – he couldn't possibly remember… Could he?

Thankfully, for as much as Lucy hated – utterly  _loathed_  – any and all iterations of Jessica, she was grateful that the little witch chose exactly the right moment to let out a petulant whine of, "Wyatt!" from a few feet away.

It was enough to distract Wyatt from whatever memories Lucy's appearance might have been stirring up, and within seconds, Jessica had dragged him away into the crowds toward the concession stand.

Lucy let out a shaky breath and, without warning, tears spilled over yet again.

It was only then, with Wyatt gone, that FLucy slipped from the shadows under the bleachers over to Lucy.

When she met FLucy's gaze, full of pity, and somehow also understanding, all Lucy could do was sob helplessly, "I never told him."

The next thing she knew, and in complete contrast to anything she'd have expected from her stern, no-nonsense older self, she was getting pulled into FLucy's embrace. And, weird as it was, she clung to the other version of her, weeping. "He doesn't know I love him," she choked out with a sniffle.

FLucy didn't respond other than to take a shaky deep breath and tighten her hold on Lucy. When she backed away a moment later, her red, shiny eyes belied the blasé tone with which she announced, "We can go."

Lucy wasn't about to protest that, not by a long shot, so she wiped halfheartedly at her face and hurried after her counterpart.

But, for as relieved as she was to get out of the stadium, away from Wyatt and Jessica and everything else about their lives in 1999, the relief quickly gave way to the overwhelming, wretched grief and guilt that had sent her racing to beneath the bleachers in the first place.

She'd let him think that he meant nothing to her. And the one time she'd come close to admitting everything, after they'd returned from the suffragette march, it had still ended with her bottling it all up again and sending him back to Jessica.

More tears slipped down her cheeks. He didn't deserve that. Not how she'd treated him, not how anyone had ever treated him. Not his father, not Jessic-

They were about halfway across the field, the lifeboat in view already, when Lucy froze, her mind racing as a sudden awareness dawned on her. "Wait!" she called after FLucy. "The past changed," she blurted out hurriedly. "Wyatt's Jessica doesn't exist anymore and never did. This one's Rittenhouse. He didn't live this," she spat out in excitement over her realization. "It wasn't actually like this for him."

But to Lucy's disappointment, FLucy didn't look fazed by the new insight.

"Look," the elder version of herself sighed, "I know you want that, but…" She shook her head, looking off into the distance ruefully. "Did I know for sure what we'd see? No," she acknowledged. "It  _could_  have been different. But," she hedged with another sigh, "that was exactly how he described it." She nodded her head back in the direction of the stadium, her voice dripping with disdain as she added bitterly, " _Her_. That's how it was no matter what. It  _did_  happen that way."

"But…" Lucy spluttered, refusing to believe it. And then she realized, "…they're only fifteen! Jessica said they got together senior year. Something's off," she protested. "Maybe it wasn't-"

FLucy just scoffed, cutting her off. "You think that one thing was the truth? Out of all the lies from her, that  _one_  thing? Try again," she chuckled with a smirk. And with that, she took off toward the lifeboat once more.

Lucy's shoulders slumped. It's not as if it mattered anyway, she realized sadly. However his relationship had gone down with Jessica in the past or hadn't, none of it changed the fact that Lucy had pushed him away in the present.

By then, the pair had reached the lifeboat and Lucy had forced herself to climb in after FLucy, who immediately set about shedding her wig and readying the lifeboat for their next jump.

Despondent, and tears still slipping down her cheeks, Lucy slid into her seat and listlessly strapped herself in. Which just brought to mind all those times that Wyatt had taken care of that for her. That she'd taken for granted.

He deserved so much more than how she'd treated him. She hadn't been honest then, but she could be now. He deserved honesty and an apology. Even if it didn't get them anywhere, even if he couldn't forgive her, she was going to tell him that she loved him and just how horrible she felt for not admitting it when he'd needed to hear it most.

But she could only do so if she was finally back with him in 2018.

Except, Lucy realized in horror, 2018 didn't necessarily mean their present. There was a whole lot more of 2018 that had already happened, and if FLucy's goal in all of this was to show her painful moments in order to teach her some sort of a lesson…

Dread settled in the pit of Lucy's stomach. She couldn't know just what was next on FLucy's agenda, but there had to be a chance that the plan was to see more recent times. What Lucy did know was that she absolutely could not go back and watch herself close Wyatt off and push him away. Never mind that she had no idea what going back to see herself and suddenly ending up with three versions of her in one spot would do, or if it was even possible, she  _had_  to keep FLucy from bringing them there.

"FLu-" she started anxiously, then stopped herself abruptly and tried lamely to cover the noise with a cough, clearing her throat. Her elder self may have been FLucy – this mysterious, brusque, tough, no-nonsense, and even rude, completely separate entity – in her head, but weird as it was, she was a real person, with a real name.  _Her_  name. She was  _her_.

Lucy swallowed and spoke up once more, softly this time. "…Lucy?"

She could see FLucy freeze at the controls. Not that she blamed her; Lucy was pretty sure it was the first time either FLucy or FWyatt had been called anything but a wary  _her, him,_  or  _them_  by any of them since they'd first shown up to help save Rufus.

Slowly, FLucy turned to face Lucy, her expression guarded.

It took Lucy a moment to muster up the composure to lay it all out there for her the future version of herself. "I don't know what this is," she finally sniffled. "Some crazy Christmas Carol thing… or when you're going to take me next, but," Lucy pleaded, brushing away another stray tear, "please don't make me go to anywhere in the last two months." She paused, shaking her head and trying to bite back the looming onslaught of emotions, "I  _can't_."

Surprise was clear on her face first, and FLucy's normally stern look faltered for a split second before turning cold again. "…I'm not," she admitted, her tone clipped.

Lucy let out a shaky breath, beyond relieved.

Except… there was another time period that she simply couldn't bear to see.

"…I can't," she choked out, "…do the future either. If we're not-" Her eyes fell closed as if she could somehow block out all the dismal visions of a future without Wyatt in her life. "I can't," she repeated in a strained whisper. "I don't want to know."

FLucy looked away for a moment, sighing, before turning back and reminding Lucy, "I _am_  the future."

Lucy's eyes flew back open and a sharp, derisive bark of a laugh escaped from her throat. "And you've been such an open book," she lamented bitterly.

Though she hadn't expected her snap comment to make a difference, Lucy was surprised to see FLucy wince, shying away as if it had been a physical blow instead of mere words. And when her older self met her gaze again, her erstwhile stony expression had softened into something that looked almost like rueful empathy.

Lucy, where she hadn't been able to see herself in her future counterpart before, immediately recognized the concerned head tilt as FLucy tugged her lower lip between her teeth, biting at it while she wavered over some sort of weighty decision.

What that decision was, Lucy would never know; FLucy had barely eked out the start of "I-" before she squeezed her hands into fists and shook her head vehemently. Then, taking a deep breath, she focused on Lucy once more and shrugged apologetically. "Make your own future, right?"

And then she whirled around, and set the lifeboat into action.

1999 was the past once more.

**TBC...**


	4. Interlude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Same spiel as last time. Life is crazy and I haven't been able to catch up on reading fic. Sorry, fellow writers :( Easier to slowly pick away at writing than read for big chunks of time. In any case, I hope others are still out there writing, because I need to keep Lyatt in my life , and I'll hopefully catch up on everyone's stuff over the summer :) In the meantime, here's a bit more of the now-very-AU tale of two Lucys and two Wyatts.
> 
> Many thanks to  _qwertygal_  for the beta.

 

Wyatt woke with a start and flailed blearily for the gun he knew he'd left on the small coffee table next to the awful couch he'd been relegated to.

Except, he slowly realized, he wasn't on the couch. He was on the floor. Blanket, pillow, and all.

He blinked in confusion, breathing hard and scanning hastily for whatever in the hell it was that had caused him to end up on the floor.

Which was when he zeroed in on his older self looming over him, still gripping the suddenly-askew couch that Wyatt had now pretty obviously been purposely dumped from.

Wyatt just glared at the other version of himself in disbelief. "What the hell, man?" he finally managed to splutter.

All he got in response was an infuriating smirk from his older self.

With a withering glare at his counterpart, Wyatt pushed himself up off the floor and yanked the couch away and back into position. He flopped down on it with a scowl, though not before sneaking a quick glance to verify that his gun was indeed still next to him on the coffee table. These… future versions of himself and Lucy had helped get Rufus back, sure. But that still didn't mean that he trusted them. It was just too…  _unnerving_  to have…  _themselves_ … there. Still hanging around, and aside from the strategizing they'd done for the Rufus mission, staying creepily quiet.

Not to mention that his older self seemed like kind of a dick.

So ignoring him and going back to sleep seemed the best response to being inexplicably dumped off the couch in the middle of the night. Especially since sleep was also the only escape Wyatt had from the royally screwed up situation that was his life since the Jessica fiasco.

_Lucy_  fiasco, really, he mentally revised. If he'd been able to recognize earlier that  _Lucy_  was the woman who deserved top billing in his life, there would have been a whole lot less of a fiasco in the first place, personally and professionally.

But there had been a fiasco. The worst kind, and mostly of his own doing. All the more reason to ignore that stupid older him and everything else, and just go back to sleep.

No sooner had Wyatt re-closed his eyes did he feel the weight of thick fabric landing forcefully on his face, followed by a gruff, "Get up," in his own voice. Except not  _exactly_  his own.

Wyatt yanked what turned out to be his jeans off his face and rocketed up to sit and glare incredulously once more at his future self.

"Get up," the older Wyatt reiterated. "You need pants."

"For what?" Wyatt snapped. "What the hell, man?"

Seeming unflappable, his counterpart just calmly informed him, "I need to show you something."

"At…" Wyatt snagged his phone and squinted at the screen. "3 am?"

"Yeah," came the terse reply.

Wyatt just snorted and shook his head. "I don't think so." He trusted this dude about as far as he could throw him, which wouldn't be very far, considering he looked like he'd spent the next five years working out even more than he already did. They'd gotten Rufus back; as far as Wyatt was concerned, the two future versions could get the hell out any time now – aside from his dick of an older self, the absolute  _last_  thing Wyatt needed these days was a  _second_ Lucy running around, a second presence to continuously remind him just how extraordinarily he'd fucked things up.

So he balled up his jeans, shoved them under his pillow so they couldn't be launched at his face again, and squeezed his eyes closed once more.

Roughly ten seconds later, Wyatt found himself careening onto the floor again.

With his future self gripping the back of the couch and smirking down at him. "Get. Up."

"Do I seriously end up this crazy?" Wyatt blurted out in response as he hauled himself up.

That earned him a smugly raised eyebrow from the older version of him, who then nodded across the bunker. "Notice anything?"

Still bleary with the remnants of sleep, Wyatt scanned the room, confused when he couldn't immediately figure out what he wa-

Then he saw it. The second lifeboat. Gone.

"Wha-" he spluttered, heart thumping in his ears as panic seized him. The last time a lifeboat had gone for an unsanctioned trip, Jessica had kidnapped Jiya.

And for as much as he loved Jiya like a kid sister, she's not the one he was worried about in that moment. "Where is she?" he demanded accusingly. "Where's Lucy?"

That goddamned smirk again as his older self asked cheekily, "Which one?"

"Mi-" Wyatt snapped his mouth shut in the middle of his reflexive reply. No version of Lucy – the amazing, strong, wonderful, self-sufficient woman that she was – was any man's, least of all his. He'd been the closest he'd ever come that night back in Hollywood. Now? He had even less of a right to call her his.

But his Lucy or not, he didn't think he'd ever be able to put an end to the feelings he had for her, nor he could suppress the ever-present instinct to protect her at all costs.

Not bothering to wait for an answer from his elder self, since it probably wasn't coming anyway, Wyatt grabbed his jeans from the floor and hastily pulled them on over his boxers before racing barefoot down the hall to Lucy's room.

His heart sank as he burst through the doorframe. Just what he'd dreaded. Lucy wasn't there.  _Neither_  Lucy was there.

He sprinted back to where the future version of himself had taken to lounging on the now-righted couch that Wyatt had been sleeping on. "Where'd she take her?" he demanded, panicky.

And, as if somehow Wyatt's future counterpart had planned it exactly that way, the upgraded lifeboat zapped back into the bunker at exactly that moment.

With a knowing nod over at it, the future Wyatt reiterated, his tone grave, "I need to show you something."

* * *

Lucy could hear the lifeboat spinning to a halt, but she remained slumped in her seat, making no move to unbuckle or get out. She didn't even want to think about where they could be now – they'd already seen awful aspects of Wyatt's childhood, so what this time? Watching his fellow soldiers die next to him in combat? Or possibly even worse, watching him find Jessica dead, only to be accused and interrogated as he grieved?

Like hell did she want any part of that; FLucy was going to have to physically drag her out of the lifeboat this time if she thought Lucy would be ok with being party to anything like that.

But, of course, as soon as Lucy had made that mental commitment, she heard the lifeboat's hatch begin to creak open. Though still dreading the myriad of miserable scenarios they could be facing this time, she couldn't stop herself from ever so reluctantly drawing her gaze to the rounded opening.

She sucked in a sharp breath.

The bunker.

"Wyatt…"

The name fell from her lips as nothing more than a stunned breath as she watched him, for some reason hunched over on the couch hurriedly… tying his shoes?

It was Wyatt. And she needed to see him. Hold him.  _Talk_  to him.

"Wyatt," she blurted out more desperately, fumbling her way through hastily unbuckling her seatbelt. "Wyatt!"

She'd just managed to free herself when she heard FLucy behind her, exclaiming a harsh "Shit…" as the sound of buttons and levers being frantically smacked at rang out.

Scrambling for the door, Lucy managed to catch the barest glimpse of Wyatt looking up at her, racing over from the couch.

And then she was yanked violently back into the depths of the lifeboat, a hand slapped over her mouth and a wiry grip on her torso. The next thing she knew, she was tumbling backwards, terrified as she landed essentially on Flucy's lap on the tiny floor space between the seats, her elder self wrapped around her limbs and still holding her mouth closed mid-cry.

At the same time, the lifeboat hatch finished creaking closed once more.

"Don't… say anything yet," FLucy hissed in Lucy's ear.

Lucy had no idea what on earth was happening; but it certainly seemed that it was exactly as she'd feared when the older Wyatt and Lucy had first emerged from their lifeboat – from some terrifying future where they'd somehow been swayed into doing awful things. And now she was getting attacked by herself. But… their future selves had saved Rufus. So why the sudden turn for the worse? And why had she trusted FLucy? Now she was trapped, and even if Wyatt had figured that out from his vantage point out in the bunker, he'd surely have FWyatt to contend with before coming for her. So all Lucy could do was comply. Trembling, she whimpered and nodded obediently as frightened tears slipped down her cheeks.

But when one of those tears trickled down to where FLucy's hand was still clamped over Lucy's mouth, FLucy jumped away as if burned.

Lucy wasn't about to waste any time; she scrambled as far away from her future counterpart as she possibly could, and made sure to scan the lifeboat for anything she might possibly use for self-defense.

In doing so, her gaze landed on FLucy. Who had tears in her own eyes and was looking over at Lucy, practically horrified.

"I'm sorry," FLucy breathed shakily. "I'm sorry. Shit, I- I didn't mean-" With another deep breath, she wiped her eyes and fixed her red-rimmed gaze on Lucy again. "I just didn't mean to open the door yet. I'm sorry.  _Really_ ," she insisted in earnest remorse. "You just… can't talk to him yet."

Utterly baffled by the change in demeanor in her elder self, Lucy tried to make sense of the situation to no avail. At the very least, she didn't seem to be in any immediate danger, but… What on earth was FLucy talking about? What in the hell had the awful jumps to Wyatt's terrible childhood been for if not to get her to  _talk_ to him? To try to understand where she'd gone wrong and to try to somehow get back to where they'd been. She wracked her brain, but it just didn't make sense. " _Why_?" she finally exclaimed.

FLucy was silent for a moment, almost as if studying Lucy. Then, just as Lucy was growing ever more uncomfortable under that scrutiny, FLucy asked solemnly, "Are you glad you saw what you saw?"

"What?" Lucy stammered, bewildered.

"Are you…" FLucy drew out slowly, annoying in her emphasis, "glad… you saw… what you saw?"

"His shitty childhood?" Lucy cried, "No!"

FLucy just lifted a skeptical eyebrow in response.

Lucy huffed. Begrudgingly, she supposed she could admit to herself that, in spite of  _hating_  how little Wyatt had been treated, not to mention realizing how horribly  _she_  had treated him when getting caught up in her own misery and self-pity, that it had… probably… been a… good… thing to see. Maybe. "I mean, I don't know," she muttered to FLucy. "I guess."

"Then let him see what he needs to see without you interfering first," FLucy replied, her voice suddenly urgent and pleading.

_See?_  Lucy's mind raced. "What? See what?" she demanded. "My- our- … _what_?"

FLucy had the audacity to chuckle.

Lucy wracked her brain. Sure, Wyatt had had a pretty awful childhood and adolescence, but… "But… You're taking  _him?_ " she stammered as her brow wrinkled in confusion. "What could he be going to see? From  _my_  life?"

"Mine too," FLucy challenged, her eyebrow lifted in bemusement this time.

"But nothing… happened," Lucy protested. "Not like with him…"

FLucy snorted a laugh. "Come on, you're not that dumb. And if you are," she added, smirking at Lucy, "I don't like what that implies about me."

That snark was one jab too much for Lucy. The inclination to decipher her own past evaporated, as did the inclination to heed any of her elder self's warnings. She just needed to get away from this unsettling other version of herself. And she needed to get to Wyatt. She set her jaw, squaring off with FLucy and practically snarled, "Let me out of here."

But once again, FLucy's attitude faded as quickly as it had appeared. "Please," she begged, her tearful eyes fixed pleadingly on Lucy. "You can't say anything to him yet. Whatever you think you want to say, you  _can't_  yet. He deserves the same chance you just had."

Her heart racing and her face twisted in bewilderment, Lucy stared at her future counterpart, frustrated and confused. One second, FLucy was maddeningly exasperating, the next, she was back to the desperately urgent sincerity that Lucy saw herself in, that had first convinced her to follow FLucy into the lifeboat in the first place.

Which meant that, deep down, Lucy knew she couldn't just ignore the beseeching request.

"I- I won't," she choked out, unable to stop tears of empathy at FLucy's distress from welling up. "…say anything. I promise," Lucy clarified, swiping at the corners of her eyes. But, she realized with a sniffle, not telling Wyatt where she'd been and what she was feeling still didn't mean FLucy would get the outcome she wanted. She frowned and shook her head when things didn't add up. "He…" she started in a ragged, phlegmy whisper, "… _must_  know you took me. And he probably just heard me yelling," Lucy added. "He won't just…  _go_. With you or…  _him_."

"Then  _make_  him," FLucy insisted. "And get that shirt off," she added.

Lucy dropped her gaze to her chest. The high school hoodie. Which Wyatt would surely recognize. Not only that, she realized as she eased it over her head, wearing apparel emblazoned with  _his_ school,  _his_  team… It just reeked of cutesy couple. Which they most certainly weren't. She eyed it ruefully as she left it to slip out of her hand down on to her seat. "I-" she started, until her breath caught in her throat. Her shoulders slumped when she mustered up more of a reply. "He won't listen," she sighed. He had no reason to.

FLucy studied her for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then she swallowed hard, reminding Lucy, "He listened in 1954."

"That was… before," Lucy countered sadly. Before possibility blew up into… misery.

But FLucy wasn't willing to listen to that line of protest. Instead, she flipped a lever, and the lifeboat door slid open once more.

And then, preternaturally still, she focused on Lucy, imploring, "Make him go."

* * *

It was practically an innate reflex that had Wyatt nearly climbing up the future lifeboat as soon as the hatch began to open again. When he'd heard Lucy yell for him the first time it had opened… No other sound in the world struck fear in his heart like Lucy calling for him when she was in danger or afraid.

Except… when she  _had_  actually gotten hurt, in Salem, he hadn't been there. Not to protect her, not to comfort her… Just not there for her at all.

So just as he had when she'd come back from that trip, Wyatt forced himself to hang back. He'd lost the right to be there for her like that.

Still, he crept closer as she slid herself down the outside of the rings. "Lucy," he ventured tentatively, "are you… ok?"

She shot him a wan smile, nodding as the other Lucy jumped down behind her. "I'm fine. We both are," she added, nodding at her older self.

Except she wasn't, Wyatt knew. The pale cheeks, red-rimmed eyes, cagey demeanor – they all belied her weak attempt at being reassuring. "No, you're not," he countered softly while his hand reached for her without his permission.

"Oh,  _now_  you can tell she's not ok?" The older Lucy's spat out from somewhere behind him, her tone biting.

Wyatt yanked his hand back down to his side as if burned.

The future Lucy was absolutely right. He'd been in denial for weeks, convincing himself that he'd done the right thing. That Lucy was fine. Until she'd finally snapped back in 1919 and he'd finally started to see just how wrong he'd been.

God, he'd been  _awful_  to her.

And as if Wyatt didn't feel miserable about it enough already, his future self had the gall to just chuckle and shake his head at the future Lucy's hostile commentary. Jesus, he'd figured the guy was a dick, but did he really turn into  _that_? Just callously laughing at how much he'd hurt Lucy?

Wyatt felt sick.

At least the exchange seemed to not have sat well with Lucy either; she sent both of their future selves a glare somewhere between annoyed and incredulous.

Which left the two of them standing there with their older counterparts just staring at them like they were zoo animals.

Not that any of that was going to deter Wyatt from trying to make sure that Lucy really was ok. No matter what had gone on between them, or how awful he'd been to her, making sure she was ok was never not going to be his priority.

"Lucy, what happened?" he begged. "What did she do?"

All that got him was the same shaky smile that he didn't believe for a second.

"Wyatt, I'm  _fine_ ," she insisted. "It… doesn't matter where she took me. I'm fine."

She was hardly convincing, particularly when Wyatt caught her wince. He whirled around to see what had brought that on, only to see the other Lucy glaring at her and nodding her head in the direction of where his own older self was now climbing into the future lifeboat. Which didn't make any sense, because there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that he was going to let Lucy in that time machine with either one of their future selves again. Not when she'd already come back from one trip looking so shaken.

"Wyatt," Lucy spoke up hesitantly, drawing his attention back to her, "you need to go. With him."

Wyatt almost staggered backwards in surprise, considering that was the last thing he'd expected her to say. "The hell I do," he countered immediately. "What did she  _do_  to you?" Because it must have been something, if Lucy thought there was any way she was ever going to convince him to just run off with his other self and leave her there with some creepy older version of herself that had just basically kidnapped her.

But Lucy was insistent. "I'm  _fine_ ," she repeated. "Please. You need to go with FWyatt."

"What?" Wyatt spluttered. "Who?"

The bashful blush that crept up onto Lucy's cheeks was that much more apparent given how pale she was after climbing out of the lifeboat. "FWyatt… short for Future Wyatt," she explained, ducking her gaze when she added, "Because he's not you."

In spite of all the confusion and wanting to protect her from whatever it was that was going on, Wyatt couldn't help but indulge himself for a moment in the tug of affection he felt. For that split second, they were back in the hallway, her blushing over his quip about already living together.

But then he'd gone and ensured that her endearing shy moments were no longer his to enjoy, he reminded himself darkly.

Blinking hard to shake the memory from his mind, Wyatt refocused on the situation at hand. "I don't care what you call him," he informed Lucy. "I'm not going."

Lucy's face fell as she turned back up to face him. "Please, Wya-"

"What does she have on you?" He cut in, because that's the only way he could see Lucy letting herself be strong-armed into going along with whatever this scheme was. There was no way he trusted it. "I'm not leaving you alone with her," he vowed, trying to keep his voice quiet enough that the lurking future Lucy didn't hear.

Unfortunately, Lucy's response to that wasn't to agree; instead, she just sighed, and her shoulders slumped ever so slightly. Wide-eyed as she looked up at him, she asked simply, "Do you still trust me?"

If there was any piece of Wyatt's heart that wasn't already broken, it broke then, hearing Lucy question his trust in her. He trusted her with his  _life_ , more than anyone else, ever. And what it boiled down to, in that question, was  _her_  no longer trusting  _him_. Pained, he managed to choke out, "Of course I- Lucy,  _yes_."

"Then  _go_ ," she urged. "It's  _fine_. Everyone else is here," she added, gesturing vaguely down the hall to where Rufus, Jiya, Connor, and Flynn still slept. "They're not… trying to hurt us. Go. Please?"

Wyatt was torn. He wanted nothing more than to restore Lucy's faith in him, to prove that he absolutely trusted her. But he hesitated; he trusted  _her_ , but he  _didn't_  trust their future selves.

As if on cue, the moment he had that thought, the other Lucy appeared from behind him, reminding him coldly, "You walked away from her after Hollywood, you can do it again now."

Lucy shot her counterpart a withering glare and protested immediately, reaching out in his direction. "Wyatt, she-"

"She's right," Wyatt interrupted in a hollow voice. Because when it boiled down to it, whether it felt like a sickening punch to the gut to hear it or not, that other Lucy was absolutely right. It wasn't as if he hadn't known how terribly he'd treated Lucy, but his – not  _his_ , he chastised mentally,  _present-day_  – Lucy had such a heart of gold that she'd never outwardly held anything against him. To have the Lucy from the future – who had  _also_  lived through the awful way he'd treated her – bluntly place the blame squarely where he deserved it? He hadn't thought he could have felt any worse, but she'd managed it.

Not that he didn't deserve it, because he absolutely did.

"She's right," he repeated, almost chuckling at himself over just. how. much. he'd really ruined everything. And how much he'd hurt Lucy in doing so. "I fucked up. You didn't deserve that," he sighed, resigned. "Least I can do is do what you're asking now."

He registered Lucy's faint protest of "Wyatt…" and thought he felt the brush of her fingertips on his arm as he backed away, but it wasn't going to stop him. She wanted him to go? He owed her that. So he would go. And if it was some twisted, nefarious plot on the part of his older self to leave him dead or stranded or whatever, so be it. Lucy would be better off without him anyway.

So Wyatt strode over to the lifeboat and hauled himself up after his other self, without so much as a last glance at her over his shoulder.

* * *

Lucy's gaze lingered on the empty space that had just held Wyatt and the lifeboat, hating that she hadn't allowed herself to say…  _anything_  to him when he seemed so broken and defeated. But she only allowed herself that for a fleeting moment. Quickly, she shook herself out of her stupor and whirled around to FLucy. "You didn't have to be such an ass to him," she snapped angrily.

FLucy just scoffed. "And you didn't have to let him walk all over you on his way back to Jessica," she shot back.

"You don't think I know that?" Lucy yelped right back. "And you did it too! You're  _me_!"

"You don't think I know  _that_?" FLucy spat out with a sneer.

That left Lucy speechless, which in turn left the two of them in a stalemate, both somehow equally angry at each other and themselves.

Which was actually the same thing, which made Lucy's head hurt even more than it already was. Because she just absolutely could not figure this older Lucy out. She'd always prided herself on being pretty smart, and a problem solver. But FLucy's motives – and FWyatt's too, she supposed, given that he'd just dragged Wyatt off to god knows when and where – were, as urgently important as they seemed, still infuriatingly elusive.

With a defeated sigh, she changed the subject and inquired wearily, "I assume you're still not going to tell me anything?  _Why_  you did this? Where-  _when_ ," she caught herself, "they're going?"

That brought on a knowing smirk. "It's late," FLucy replied, dodging the question. "I'm tired. I think I'll sleep for a while."

And with that, she headed off in the directed of the bleak bedroom they'd been sharing just a few hours earlier, leaving Lucy, still puzzled, alone in the living area.

She bit her lip, trying in vain to ward off another round of tears that threatened when her line of sight landed on the couch where Wyatt had been sleeping.

She just wanted Wyatt back. Back where they were when they'd sat there in that same spot, just casually playing a board game and still riding the high of their night together at Hedy's. She'd even take  _before_  then, before… possibilities. Anything but where they were now, full of heartache and regret and her left standing there alone, unable to even try to set anything right until Wyatt returned.

Lucy brushed away ever more tears as she glanced around. And she spotted Wyatt's blanket on the floor.

Against her better judgement, before she could talk herself out of it, she gingerly lifted it up and tugged it around herself as she eased herself down onto his couch.

It smelled like him, she realized, allowing herself a ghost of a smile as his scent enveloped her.

She really hoped that, wherever the Wyatts had gone, they wouldn't take too long.

Because there was no denying it anymore; Lucy knew exactly how she felt, and just how strongly she felt it. She just needed to tell Wyatt, not to mention apologize for holding back those very feelings when he'd needed to know them most. And then she'd just have to hope beyond hope that the love he'd admitted over there on the floor was real, and that he could somehow forgive her, and himself, enough to be able to try to pick up the pieces and rebuild. Together.

And though Lucy was begrudgingly grateful to FLucy for having gotten her to that mental place, she was still mystified by the tactics their future selves were using. From where she was, it certainly looked like they'd wanted her to see little Wyatt, and teenage Wyatt, so that she could see what she'd done wrong in how she'd treated him and what she'd let him believe, so that she could understand just how deeply rooted were the instincts that had driven his behavior when Jessica had shown up. And… that those were supposed to add up to the two of them getting back together? Maybe?

But how did it then make sense to drag Wyatt off, Lucy puzzled. She was already  _there_  – more than ready to try to rebuild, to forgive and forget. And Wyatt, if he really had been speaking the truth in admitting to her that he loved her – which she still didn't quite believe, but at some point she had to take a leap of faith and trust him, right? So if he'd been being honest, he was there too. And just minutes ago, he'd seemed so remorseful and contrite… Wasn't that enough? Why would their future selves risk Wyatt seeing something that might push him in the other direction, away from her, if FLucy had already gotten her on the same page as him? What if it all got even more horribly messed up?

What if… what if that was exactly what their plan was? Lucy's lower lip quivered, and she teared up again as that possibility sunk in. What if this was all some sort of torturous punishment for her? She couldn't fathom what the rationale for that could be, at least from FLucy's side, but…

Well, really, she just had no idea.

She just wanted Wyatt.

The best she could do in the moment was to burrow deeper into his blanket, breathing him in.

Beyond that, all she could do was wait.

**TBC...**


End file.
